


Claiming the Throne

by artistocrazy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, F/M, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Lime, Somebody’s getting pegged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artistocrazy/pseuds/artistocrazy
Summary: Building up to the Halloween mischief in New York City, Erzsébet gets straight to the point about exploring the subtle, unspoken sex game of hero and damsel between herself and Roderich, much to her lover’s stubborn but enthusiastic chagrin.
Relationships: Austria/Hungary (Hetalia)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Claiming the Throne

_October 31, 2011_

  
It was a challenge enough for her to bunch all of that hair into one hair-tie, but Erzsébet was nothing if not stubborn, as evidenced by all the mumbling from that hotel bathroom. However, she was far too excited to get upset over some of her curls sliding out of the hold and cascading down her face. Her costume this year was looking incredible, and each time she looked at the full view of it in the mirror she saw a dashing young prince looking right back at her. 

Alfred’s Halloween parties were typically a fun, raucous affair and gave invitees full excuse to go all out on their celebration, all the way down to the costume contest. Frankly, the contest and the discounted evening in a luxury Manhattan hotel didn’t interest her much by way of winning anything - she just enjoyed the excuse to dress up and liked having a willing partner to join her. 

Okay, maybe Roderich was not the most willing partner for a costume contest. He was certainly not resigned to simply being a doll and had his limits of what he would wear. He continually made note of how revealing and tacky some of the other costumes kept getting with each passing year and was not generally one for crowded affairs. He never seemed terribly attached to the ballroom scene when it would tumble into chaos and debauchery, even if he did go to make appearances and hear some of the gossip. They weren’t really avenues for him to decompress; however, he continually made the choice to swallow his pride and partake with the lame excuse of wanting to serve as a chaperone each year. 

It was a thinly-veiled excuse, really. He didn’t completely object to skimpier costumes or seeing people wear them, although he wouldn’t _personally_ partake in that in public - much too cold to be doing that sort of thing anyway. And they both knew Erzsébet could handle herself better than he could in these situations - if anything, Roderich needed her around to keep from getting lost. All he served to do in that case was to physically manifest into the “boyfriend” role if someone really couldn’t take the hint, and even that was more of a placeholder (mainly, he preferred she not get herself entangled in a fight if there was a nonviolent way to keep her safe, and just responding to her call was usually enough).

Although this year, she didn’t think very many men would give her that sort of trouble. Not when she looked like _she_ could step in and be someone’s dashing “boyfriend” if anyone was giving one of the ladies trouble. 

“Almost there,” she mumbled to herself, and couldn’t help but gloat after pluming her pony tail at how the whole ensemble really pulled together. “Yeah, looking good,” she purred, practicing a suave pose or two before she was ready to show off in front of her “chaperone”.

Roderich peered his head up from his book, taking note of the affirming noises coming from their’s suite’s bathroom and hearing the click of the door. Seeing her saunter out of the bathroom with the confidence of an old film star in that getup, Roderich’s eyes widened for a moment and he marked his page to observe the handsome prince.

The Austrian had some firm feelings about dressing too sexy for Halloween and inciting trouble, though that was more about revealing too much so as to promote indecency in chilly weather. Erzsébet was in full dress for a prince, and yet the sex appeal she exuded shattered those protesting feelings into little pieces, though they were soon forgotten over his heart thumping like mad with lust.

Registering those eyes on her and the way his jaw subtly dropped, Erzsébet could sense he was speechless and quite clearly aroused. Thinking there was still some time, she wanted to explore those feelings and goad on a conversation, partially to see how effective this costume really was. It was one thing if he was a little turned on and had no issue talking to build on that feeling, but it was a whole other if he was so suddenly thrown into a buildup that he forgot how to speak in the midst of intense desire.

“How do I look?” she grinned, knowing full well how he was struggling not to make a fool of himself. She’d give him a hand by providing some dialogue, and with her questions sounding more like answers as she stepped around in a circle. “Manly?”

Roderich smiled politely, letting a blush creep up on his cheeks and allowing his eyes to drink in as much detail of the ensemble he could in a poised and yet starstruck state. “Yes, you look very gallant.”

With a cocky grin, she unsheathed her sword and slashed the air a couple of times, taking some youthful delight in the whooshing sounds it made in her grasp. Puffing out her chest and striking a couple more poses, Erzsébet kept at it. “Do I look strong?”

Giving her a once over, Roderich started to take notice of the various curves the costume accentuated, with each turn and stretch highlighting the strain of the fabric against the muscles along her back and shoulders. “Yes,” he purred, slowly revealing a mischievous smile, “you look very brawny.”

Humming out a laugh, Erzsébet strode over to his side and took hold of his hand, which he presented, while bending over to apply a kiss and wink at him. 

In a coquettish way, Roderich tucked his chin and shied his eyes from her advance, while doing very little else to convince her he wasn’t completely charmed over her flirting. It wasn’t as though he was unfamiliar with this type of chivalry, having employed some similar tactics before on her to arguable success. However, Roderich didn’t feel as though anything he could do in that regard had quite the same level of sensuality she had. She had a whimsy about her that he never could quite possess - a roguishness he couldn’t hope to compete with but couldn’t help but want to be the object of affection over. When she kissed his hand, he had no doubt she had the gall to fulfill any fantasized promise that came to him. What could he help to do but try to admire her right back?

And then her next question started to reel him back to reality. “Ok then, can I sweep you off your feet?”

“Ye- wait, what?”

“Sorry,” she soothed. “I meant, can I sweep you off your feet, my princess?”

Despite the rosy color on his cheeks, Roderich glanced his eyes between his lover and the floor with suspicion. If this was a ploy to potentially irritate him into further arousal, it was definitely an interesting, albeit unnecessary and twisted, way to up the ante. The only other person who’d refer to him as princess was one Prussian who’d irritated him to arousal more times than were fair, in his mind. “Please tell me you’re just calling me that to annoy me.”

“Mmm, does it _bother_ you?” she asked, with a little moan between kisses trailing up his hand. “When I call you my... _princess_?”

Not that she would see it, but she could sense a tension starting to build in her lover that translated to his other hand gripping the arm of the chair. “Good Lord, Schatz,” he huffed, with the churning feeling in his stomach building an increasingly noticeable pressure against in his pants. “You just finished putting that on. Do you really expect me to hold out all night before you take it off?”

“What if I do?” Erzsébet teased him. Rather than straddling one of his legs to make note of how far she’d gotten him, the prince decided to seat herself on the chair’s vacant arm and lean over to slowly card her other hand through her lover’s hair. “What if I want to court you all night? Step in when someone asks you if _you_ have a boyfriend, hmm? Would you like that?”

For a moment he wondered if she ever took the tail off of that devil nurse costume from last year, because the propositions she was making were bordering on cruel. He wanted so badly to escalate whatever this was, to pull the prince onto his lap and maybe convince her to stay in for the night - allow them both the small fantasy of being monarchs overseeing a world below them. But it seemed either scenario would mean dawning a dress.

“You have a lot of faith in me to be able to exercise that kind of restraint,” he argued, trying not to whine. For goodness sakes, it was frankly embarrassing how on-the-nose this costume was - how Pavlovian his response had become, in recognizing her as the dashing hero to valiantly rescue him from any threat. 

“You find this that hot, huh?” the prince chuckled, observing the painfully obvious flush on her damsel’s face.

“Ooh, babe,” his helpless cry was hardly more than a whisper, with his informality and subtle gritting teeth denoting the direness of the situation. “So hot.” 

“Well,” she proposed with a chuckle, sliding herself down the arm of the chair onto his lap and into his grateful hands that smoothed up and down her thighs. She’d leaned in close enough where he could get a whiff of a musky cologne she dawned for the occasion. “ _I_ think it’d be even hotter to have a damsel to protect. A beautiful princess in need of rescuing. In need of wooing.”

“You already prepared the princess costume, didn’t you? There is no prince option.”

“I only make so much money in my day job, drágám,” she explained, tousling his hair and starting to massage his scalp. “Besides, I thought you liked it when I spent money sensibly on you.”

“Jessas, Erzsi,” Roderich groaned, raking his nails into those white pants. “I’m already yours. You can just claim the throne already.”

“Well, that’s not very ladylike, is it?” Erzsébet teased him yet again, directing his hands to her back to keep him from finding her waist band. “Can I take you to the ball first, highness? See what happens after midnight?”

“Well, if we’re _both_ going and we’ll _both_ be drinking, then I know _exactly_ what will happen after the ball,” Roderich argued in another terse but sensual whisper. Erzsébet could feel his fingers rake up to the the nape of her neck and feel herself sliding in closer underneath a hungry gaze. “And _that_ will be everything I’ll curse being unable to remember, that’s what.”

At that point, her laughter became a little less suave and more in good humor for a compromise. Attractive as he could be when he was aroused and impatient, her lover was still an adorable grump. And a sleepy drunk. 

Leaning into his ear to further delay anything starting, and potentially quiet him with kisses along his jaw if need be, she made her offer. “Then what about this? I’ll, ah... claim the throne _now_ and help you get changed for the party after a quick shower, hmm?”

Practically tucking him in to the seat with the way she was wrapped around him, Erzsébet heard his sassy reply humming from the crook of his neck. “What about sweeping me off of my feet?”

“I think I can manage the energy for that,” the prince replied with a sarcastic smirk, easing out of the hold with impeccable grace and charm. With a little maneuvering, Erzsébet finally scooped up her lover and sauntered towards the bedroom.

“The costume _does_ have pants, yes?” Roderich asked, clinging tenderly to her shoulders. “It’s cold. Tights simply will not be good enough to warm me when it’s frosting outside.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” she soothed, guiding her lover down onto the mattress before crawling on top. “I’ve got you covered, babe.”


End file.
